


A Star's Purpose

by RefrainGirl



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No Plot/Plotless, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Stargazing, Vulnerable Crowley (Good Omens), on the roof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RefrainGirl/pseuds/RefrainGirl
Summary: Crowley nods, settling back down onto his back and folding his arms into a more comfortable pillow behind his head. “Yeah. Stars are incredible up close, too,” he says. Aziraphale can tell that he’s trying to keep it light, yet Crowley can’t quite manage to prevent a string of wistfulness from seeping into his words. “You wouldn’t believe how soft they feel when you’re forging ‘em. How warm it is when their energies combine in the palm of your hand.”All of London has gone mysteriously dark, so a demon and his angel decide to spend the night stargazing on the roof of the bookshop.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 67





	A Star's Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> This story came about when I was in that plane of existence between sleeping and wakefulness, whatever that's called... Google tells me that it's called 'Hypnagogia', but I'm not sure about that. All I know is that I wasn't fully asleep nor awake, and this dream lodged itself in my brain and asked to be written. It was a cool dream, and I think I represented it well with this fic, so I hope you all enjoy it!

When Aziraphale finally decides to put his book down for the night, he notices it. The strange absence of his demonic companion. Crowley was there not a moment ago, lounging across his plush couch, snoring. But he isn’t there now. Peering about the dimly lit stacks of books, Aziraphale decides that it will require him getting up out of his comfortable armchair to find Crowley. And yet even that doesn’t produce the required results. He wanders among the shelving, but Crowley isn’t lurking there. The back room is terribly devoid of his demon as well, although he can detect a hint of demonic essence wafting throughout the small space. If he’s being honest, he’s just catching whiffs of Crowley’s cologne, barely noticeable but still there. He likes to wear the stuff to cover up all the other little scents that seem to accompany him, but Aziraphale enjoys it whenever he can pick up on a hint of brimstone, burning his nostrils in just the right ways.

“Crowley?” he calls, hoping that the demon is still somewhere within earshot. Nothing stirs except for a heart that is slowly picking up speed. “Are you still here?”

Aziraphale isn’t sure what he’s expecting with this. Does he think Crowley will answer? Does he think Crowley will not? Perhaps he’s hoping that Crowley hasn’t left a note and departed, like other times in the past. Hell has called him away on business before, and although that shouldn’t happen now, Aziraphale still worries that it might. He hopes that the demon is still here, waits to hear a rough grumble of -

“‘Course I’m still here! Wouldn’t just leave you without sayin’ so, angel!”

Aziraphale lets out a sigh of relief, relaxing back into his usual stance. Of course he’s still around somewhere - and by somewhere, he assumes that means upstairs because that’s where it sounds like Crowley’s voice is coming from. He takes the winding staircase up to his bedroom door and flings it open, ready to chastise a certain somebody for putting him in such a panic.

But there’s no one in here, either.

Aziraphale steps inside, frowning at an empty bed with slightly dishevelled sheets spread upon it. Crowley had either tried sleeping in it or was simply snuggling up the blankets to do what Aziraphale always did whenever his clothes came in close enough contact with the demon. “Were you sniffing my blankets, dear?” he asks, smiling warmly when he hears a nervous stutter.

“Wh - no! Why would I do that!?” Crowley exclaims, and upon further inspection Aziraphale discovers that his voice is coming from outside his bedroom window. He approaches it with a chuckle, sliding it open as he listens to Crowley try to explain himself. “‘S perfectly ridiculous, doin’ something like that when you’re right downstairs!”

“Oh, so you _do_ breathe in my heavenly perfume when I’m not looking?”

Crowley snorts. “Not anymore I won’t, if you insist on usin’ that kind of attitude!”

Aziraphale manifests his wings, careful to make sure that there are no humans to see him as he readies for the flight to the rooftop. “What kind of attitude is that, dearest? I don’t believe I have an attitude.”

“You know you do, don’t act all innocent,” Crowley grumbles, in a fond manner that makes Aziraphale almost certain that his demon is blushing. “So smug and sure of yourself. Can’t you just pretend that you didn’t know all along? No, instead you have to rub it in.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale adds cheekily, smiling as Crowley’s groan carries over from above.

“No, no, no. It’s too late now, angel, ‘cause I _know_ you’re doin’ it, and I _know_ you’re acting! You were s’posed to do it earlier, so I’d get a chance to believe you!”

“And when were you going to mention that this is what you were doing every time you hugged me from behind?”

“Hrm.” Crowley hesitates for a second. “I was gonna tell you. Eventually.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right!” Crowley hisses, sounding embarrassed rather than mad. “See? There you go again, smug and assured! I wasn’t bein’ that - ”

“It was quite obvious, love. I could feel your breath ghosting over me.”

Crowley sputters a few curses under his breath. “No, I wasn’t,” he insists hotly. “I was clandestine, secretive!”

“And the only reason why I didn’t mention it sooner was because I wanted to give you the opportunity to say why you were going about it so... secretively.”

“Aziraphale, you can be such a bastard.”

He beams with quiet pride, glad that Crowley can’t see any of it, and leans his arms on the windowsill. “At any rate, you don’t need to hide such a thing. I find it quite endearing.” He thinks he can hear a muffled ‘ngk’ and continues warmly. “I do the same whenever you leave, and it comforts me immensely, your cologne. It makes me feel like you might be just a few steps away.”

Crowley clears his throat a little. “I kinda am, y’know,” he says quietly. “All you gotta do is ring me, and I’ll be there. Won’t take me long.”

“With the way I’ve seen you drive, I can believe that you aren’t lying, my dear.”

“Ha, funny.” He can almost hear the dramatic rolling of the eyes before Crowley asks him in a gentle murmur, “So, you comin’ up or am I gonna have to drag you up here myself?”

That is not necessary, although the idea does have its own brand of appeal.

As he moves to sit inside his window, Aziraphale looks out on the world to realize that Soho is unusually dark for this time of night. Not a single street lamp shines in the encroaching darkness, not a single window has light filtering through - except for his, of course. Candles and oil lamps give off an easy glow from within the bookshop, but Aziraphale decides that for the time being, he should turn them off. He snaps his fingers, and all is consumed by shadow.

“Huh,” he hears Crowley say curiously. “That made all the difference. C’mon angel, you can see everything perfectly right now. Prob’ly wont get to see this again for a while.”

His curiosity peaks, and Aziraphale pushes off the window ledge and into flight as his wings carry him up to the flat, bare expanse of the building’s roof. Crowley is laying on his back, borrowing one of Aziraphale’s older and less used blankets, staring up at the sky. His arms are behind his head, legs crossed at the knee. He looks every bit as handsome as he has looked over the millennia, long and tall and brimming with elegance.

As soon as Aziraphale touches down, his wings disappear. Crowley glances over at him, his golden eyes shining dimly in the dark, and grins excitedly. The grin bares his fangs just a touch, and Aziraphale thinks that tonight Crowley looks even more gorgeous than when he sees him during daylight hours. “Get over here,” he urges, dislodging a hand to pat a section of the blanket. “You’re gonna love this.”

Aziraphale opens his mouth to ask what he will love, but then he tilts his head up and discovers something blindingly brilliant. The skies above Soho have never shone with this many stars for as long as he’s lived here. The lights of the city have always drowned out the stars, hiding their beauty from the people of London, but tonight he can see them all. Every individual cluster, every last twinkling sparkle, he can see it swirling in a neon purple canvas that stretches outward and on, beyond what mere mortal eyes can see.

Aziraphale stares in awe, settling himself down beside Crowley with a muted gasp. “It’s never been this clear before,” he whispers, afraid that speaking any louder might shatter the magic spell being woven before his eyes. “I’ve never seen so much as a single star since moving to Soho. They’re indescribably beautiful.”

Crowley nods, settling back down onto his back and folding his arms into a more comfortable pillow behind his head. “Yeah. Stars are incredible up close, too,” he says. Aziraphale can tell that he’s trying to keep it light, yet Crowley can’t quite manage to prevent a string of wistfulness from seeping into his words. “You wouldn’t believe how soft they feel when you’re forging ‘em. How warm it is when their energies combine in the palm of your hand.”

Aziraphale observes the weaving pattern of the stars for a moment longer before turning to smile at Crowley. “You sound like you miss it,” he comments, noting how the demon tenses up under the observation. “There’s nothing wrong with missing something, Crowley. Especially if you took pride in it, cared about it as much as I know you did. And still do.”

Crowley narrows his eyes, looks like he’s about to argue against the fact. But then his eyes turn back upwards instead, and he softens. The wistful look is replaced by something less melancholy, something... fond.

“I miss parts of it,” he admits, slowly. “It wasn’t like I was the only one up there who kinda knew what they were doing. There were a lot of us back then, and I actually only made a handful of these stars by myself. We all worked on the spectacle of the night sky together, and I... I miss that. The feeling of togetherness. Demons don’t get to have that. ‘S much safer not to trust, not to be close to each other.”

Crowley sighs, and then directs a much more contented smile over at Aziraphale. “But who’s to say I don’t have that anymore, eh?”

The fuzzy warmth of his statement pulses though Aziraphale’s heart, makes him smile back. “Indeed. You’ve never been alone since the day we met.”

Crowley is blushing furiously, but his smile deepens, makes Aziraphale want nothing more than to hold that handsome face in his hands and smother him with kisses. “You’ve got a point there,” he murmurs, leaning up on his elbows to press his lips to gradually warming skin. “Every day ‘m grateful that out of all the angels that could’ve guarded that gate, God chose you. You won’t catch me praying, or thankin’ Her, but I am just so... incredibly... grateful...”

Aziraphale knows that his kissing is making it hard for Crowley to speak, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Words are lost on them both as they wrap their arms around each other, falling onto the blanket with huffs of breath and linked tongues. Crowley’s mouth creates a delicious seal against his lips, trapping the angel in a delightful grip that makes him kiss back with such eagerness. It is amazing how perfectly they fit together, Aziraphale thinks; but the moment is cut short when Crowley breaks the kiss to lick his lips, and somehow he looks slightly troubled.

“Is there something wrong?” Aziraphale asks, reaching up to tenderly cup his cheek. “You can tell me, dearest.”

“Nah, it’s just...” Crowley frowns a little. He leans into the contact, like it’s a welcome comfort. “When She threw me out, I had to relearn everything. I wasn’t an angel anymore. I couldn’t make stars, I wasn’t allowed that privilege, being a demon. It took a while, but I learned what I was meant to do, and I did it my way. Eventually I took pride in my new line of work, and I got to be real good at it.”

Here he hesitates, peering down at Aziraphale with a kind of vulnerability that is reserved only for the angel’s eyes. “But even Hell doesn’t want me now. ‘M not gonna miss those wankers, not one bit. Still, ‘s like I’ve been thrown out on my arse all over again. I’ll have to teach myself how to live, just like last time, except there’s no standard to live up to. It’s just me out here, doing whatever I like. And that sounds like freedom when you put it that way, but sometimes I miss havin’ something to aim for. How else am I s’posed to know if the direction I’m headin’ in is the right one? I can’t just ask Her for help, like humans do. That’s pointless anyway, not like She’ll ever answer.”

The silence that follows makes Crowley glance off to the side, and he clears his throat. “Eh, whatever, ‘s no big deal,” he murmurs, trying to smile. “It gets to me once in a while, that’s all.”

So this is why he left the comfort of the couch. Not so much for the stars, but the solitude. He’s trying to make sense of this new development, just as Aziraphale is.

The angel nods solemnly. “I understand, my dear,” he says, because he truly does. This struggle has been a part of him since the beginning, and he yearns to comfort Crowley the way that he had wished to be comforted himself. “Often I’ve felt the same, lost without that path that I’ve always followed. It may seem like we are wandering in the dark, with no one to show us the way. But do you know who guides me now?”

Crowley gives him a quizzical look. “Uh. Your heart?”

“Yes. After ages of following orders in the pursuit of what I was told was right, I have chosen to be brave, and listen to my heart first on all matters. Is that right, or is it wrong? Well, this world twists and turns, finding pleasure in sweeping me straight off my feet with confusion. It isn’t easy to see the correct answer for everything. But I have come to realize that the ‘right path’ can mean a lot of different things for different people - and for me, it’s not so much about following this ‘right path’ anymore, but about following the path I’m on with someone who wants to walk it with me. Someone I trust more than anything.”

Aziraphale reaches up to cup Crowley’s swiftly reddening cheek. “The partner I want beside me is always going to be you, Crowley. Surely you must know that you’re not alone in this.”

Those golden eyes widen with so much emotion that Aziraphale wonders if he’s said too much, but after a minute Crowley smiles that wobbly, lovestruck smile that he adores and leans in to kiss him, long and deep.

After a while, Crowley reluctantly tears his mouth away. “So you do think that a star built for shining can find a new purpose?” he asks breathlessly.

“I’ve seen it before, with one star in particular,” Aziraphale admits, punctuating his statement with a gentle kiss to Crowley’s nose. “You’ll be fine, dear. After all, we’re both in the same situation. We can teach each other how to go about things.”

Crowley smiles again, shining just as brightly as before. “Sounds good to me,” he chuckles, rolling onto his back to admire the skies once more. His hand seeks out Aziraphale’s and takes it, links their fingers together like there is no possible way to break them apart.

Everything is perfect, except for one nagging question.

“Crowley, dear?”

“Mm?”

“Do you know why all of the lights in London are out?”

“A-are they? I hadn’t noticed!”

“So you didn’t induce a city-wide power outage just so we could look at the stars?”

“... Ngk.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come and say hi on Tumblr!
> 
> You can find me at my main blog [@refraingirl](https://refraingirl.tumblr.com/) or at my writing blog [@refraingirl-the-writer](https://refraingirl-the-writer.tumblr.com/)!


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